


Sommeil (He's only asleep)

by destinysbastard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ;), AU, Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, But not really that much, Castiels first time, Coma, Comfort, Comforting, Crying, Dean dreams of several things and they are not all that immensely descriptive, Death, Dream World, Happy Ending, Hell, Hospital, I grabbed you tight and raised you from perdition, Killing, Lots of Angst, M/M, OKAY here come the WARNINGS:, Oh also, Oral Sex, Panic Attack, Paralysis, Physical Abuse, Riding, Rimming, SO, Suicidal Thoughts, Teasing, Top!Cas, VERY light dom!cas, accident (not descriptive), angsty, as in like sleep paralysis basically, bottom!Dean, bottom!cas but in control, but dean is very depressed and doesn't really wanna live, but happy endings, but i will add the tags when it's time, but it'll be okay i promise, but there's some things:, bye, cas first time, cas saves dean, eventually GAY SEX, here we go for more, hurt!Dean, i guess, i told ya angsty, like powerbottom!cas i guess?, lol my tags are horrible, no nightmares no more, or top!dean but sub, well its not that explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinysbastard/pseuds/destinysbastard
Summary: Dean Winchester gets into a car crash and ends up in a coma. Sam cannot let go of him. If only he knew what was going on in Dean's mind...First a lost soul, dancing somewhere between heaven, hell and earth; then he finds himself in a world of dreams and nightmares, unable to tell what's real and what isn't.But someone's watching over him... And Castiel does not give up on Dean Winchester."As angry as Dean was and as ridiculous he thought the whole scene was, he had to admit that Castiel was a bit intimidating, with his low voice, and those eyes that pierced right through him. But he wasn't really scared of him. He was way too angry to be scared, and something about the way Castiel looked at him told Dean he meant well. He cared. But why?"





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is so angsty. I'm sorry. Not sorry. I liked writing it and knowing there will be a happy end I like angst, okay?  
> It's a slow burner cause this one is, for a change, more about the character development and feels and all that. But:  
> There will soon be a long epilogue... with sex. Don't fret.  
> Until then, enjoy and please leave kudos if you liked it and feedback either way :) comments make me haaaappy hehe  
> (Also I am not really happy with the summary, if ya got any ideas, please tell me. Why are summaries so hard to write lol)

He'd gotten the call at 2am, a strange number appearing on his phone.

"Sam Winchester?" he spoke into the phone, his voice barely co-operating at this time of night.

The call was from a hospital nearby.

"Are you related to Dean Winchester? We found your number on his phone, he-" Sam's heart sank into his stomach like a stone.

"Is he okay?" he asked immediately, his voice both shaky and a little angry.

"He got into a car crash. The doctors are doing their best right now."

For a moment Sam didn't reply, he just sat there in disbelief.

"Mr. Winchester?" the woman on the line asked.

"I'm on my way," he breathed into the phone and got up immediately.

 

 


	2. Upside Down

The purple mud was thick and mushy, but he didn't sink in, he just floated right across it. Yet he could feel the soft earth crumbling underneath. It was all flatland, there was nothing but purple earth surrounding him, as if he was in the middle of the ocean, far from any safeland.

He walked; he'd been walking for a long time, but there was no fatigue settling in his body.

Blue leaves were falling from invisible trees, raining down on him, and when he looked up he saw glowing birds, their swift, bright movements contrasting against the dark golden night sky.

Slow steps, soundless, breathless, as if they didn't exist at all.

A pond, a little lake, appeared unexpectedly and yet self-evidently, waiting for him. He just stood there and watched, mesmerized by the view. It wasn't filled with water, it was filled with clouds. A whole sky in that little pond to his feet, and there were waves above him, rocking him softly, like a lullaby. Was the sun hiding behind that thick layer of silver clouds?

He walked right into the pond, plunging into chaos and nothingness alike. There were colors blooming up like flowers everywhere, shades of grey bathing him and wrapping him in soft sheets. Floating and falling, he swam and flew and then fell onto purple ground again.

He lay down, only to be blown away with the winds, dancing with those blue leaves, now the rain itself. He was raining for a long time, immeasurably long, time did not exist at all.

Falling into a thousand pieces, and then floating together into one again, like the universe itself, he waited. He waited and waited and then he came to a tree. It was tall and thick and old. It consisted of bright yellow flowers that shone so magically it looked like the essence of the sun had been captured in them; its stem was lightning digging into purple earth, the branches then blooming up into a sky full of stars.

Resting himself underneath this unfathomable dimension of beauty, he breathed in stardust and oxygen, only so he'd glow... He fell into a deep sleep, embraced by the stars and the rain and the endless purple nothingness.

 

 


	3. Finding Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Verbal abuse

He opened his eyes, his mind still completely blank for a few moments.

He inhaled and felt his stomach and chest rising as his lungs filled with air. Looking around, all he saw was forest. Tree after tree, thick brown stems and colorful leaves dancing in the wind.

Slowly he stood up, feeling dizzy for a moment. He held onto the tree he had just been leaning against, and tried to find some steadiness by breathing evenly.

When his dizziness had passed, he started walking - no specific direction, as there was no path to be found anywhere, only meters and meters of untouched autumn ground. So he just walked.

The forest looked endless as he couldn't see anything behind those many layers of trees. But then he suddenly came to a road. It started right there, in front of his feet, where the forest ended, and road and desert started.

His steps sounded dull and hard on the pavement, unlike before, where the autumn leaves had crunched under his boots, and there had been faint familiar sounds from the forest. He was somehow very aware of all those tiny sounds, though there was barely anything besides his own breathing and walking now.

Again, this street seemed to go on forever. And while he didn't really find an end to it, something did change.

From one moment to the other, he was suddenly sitting in a car, now driving along the same road. Grabbing the steering wheel felt familiar and he relaxed into the seat.

He drove for a while. It started raining and everything got much darker. Thunder and lightning set in, and the car suddenly stopped.

He sat there, waiting for something to happen.

 _Good thing I didn't wash baby today_ , he thought to himself.

There was a feeling settling in his stomach. Something weird and uncomfortable, as if he was being watched. He closed his eyes. He breathed.

When he opened them again, he was standing in a room. A dark room with a big bed in it. The thunder was almost even louder than before, pulsing through him, and as his eyes got used to the darkness, he started to see two figures in the bed across the room.

It was a young boy who seemed scared, and another boy who looked a little older, somewhere at the beginning of his teenage years.

They were talking in low voices.

He just stood there and watched them, making out a few words and phrases, something about food, something about hunting and about road trips. These words seemed to calm the younger kid.

He himself suddenly felt calmer too, calmer and warm and somehow at home.

The last thing he heard of those two boys was chuckling and something about pie, and then he was suddenly somewhere else again. Everything was bright and warm but strange and unfamiliar. He turned around a few times and then he started running. In front of him appeared a humongous pie and he climbed on top of it, starting to munch away, a beloved sweetness spreading on his tongue and his stomach filling wonderfully.

He kept eating, eventually feeling full, and then lay down, slowly sinking into the pie. He almost became one with it, until he suddenly fell onto heavy ground.

It took him a moment to orientate himself. He was at home. It was a different kind of feeling “at home” than when he was in the room with those two boys.

His father, John, was standing in front of him, rather above him, and shouting. Dean did not understand a single word, nothing made sense to him, but his father's shouts rang in his ears nevertheless.

He started to feel enraged but also terribly small and somehow he couldn't move; he felt paralyzed. All he could do was stand there and sink deeper and deeper. Seeing his dad had a strange effect on him he couldn't really describe. There was a tug in his chest, an unexplainable ache. For one it was something familiar, something telling him _he's back_ , but also a massive, heavy feeling of fear and anger, a voice shouting and telling him to run.

So he did. Somehow he managed to get himself out of his paralysis and started running as fast as he could. He opened the door and unexplicably landed in his car again.

The radio was on, classic rock playing, and the words _don't fear the reaper_ lulling him into a drunken state; he was starting to feel slow, heavy and unable to think.

He sighed, unable to let go of the heaviness that had settled in his heart. Drifting off to sleep, Dean remembered. Everything.

 

 


	4. So Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Abuse, alcohol abuse, physical abuse, memories of hell, the mark, killing, mentioned blood. (All not very descriptive, but I need to be sure. Most other chapters don't have as many triggers.)

Fire. There was a fire. Smoke climbed into his nostrils and panic rose to his chest. He ran, only realizing where he was going when he was already there. It was the second time seeing this, his mother, but now he couldn't wrap his head around what was happening any more than all those years ago. He just stood there.

His father pushed him out of the room, told him to get Sammy outside as fast as he could. And when his body finally caught up with his brain, he started running.

The house went up in flames, and so did his heart. Or at least it felt like it.

Sammy slipped out of his hands, and he couldn't do a thing to stop it. But when he felt the sharp sting of a slap across his cheek, he was glad Sam wasn't there anymore. That meant he was safe; at least _Sam_ was safe.

Dean would take all of this if it meant his brother was safe.

Another sharp sting across his face, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes, which only earned him more angry shouts from his dad.

Dean didn't even know what his dad was shouting about. Very often he didn't really know the reason - not a specific reason for the nights when his dad came home drunk and angry and felt the need to take whatever was eating at him out on Dean; but of course Dean knew what was hurting his dad all those years: the death of Dean's mother had never stopped haunting either of them. Almost every night Dean's thoughts drifted back to that day, and it was still horribly vivid in his mind.

He blamed himself sometimes, and so did his father. Or maybe he just needed a way to relieve his anger and he didn't truly blame Dean, but it changed nothing about the guilt that sat heavy in Dean's stomach.

His father took a sip from a bottle and stepped closer; Dean's whole being drew back, but he forced himself not to flinch. And then he slipped into complete and utter darkness, as if it was eating him alive.

Then he felt heat. It spread from his fingers across his arms and along his whole torso. A low growl escaped his throat. He shut his eyes, trying to escape, but he couldn't. His arms were chained and he couldn't decide what felt worse: the complete emptiness filling and consuming him, or the heat and pain biting at his limbs. Not that he had time to think.

There was never a break from the constant pulling and burning and singeing on his already ripped skin; everywhere - from his burnt knuckles to his aching legs and his scorching throat, he felt as if he was burning alive. He kept feeling like he couldn't go on, as if any second now he'd drop dead, but then it just continued and he never got any remition.

His mind was flashing with uncountable pictures, all at once intruding him, bringing back every bit of pain he had ever felt in his life.

And yet none of these words could ever really describe the hell he'd been through.

He opened his eyes, and he was sitting in his car, the cool air on his skin contrasting strongly with what he'd just experienced. There was sweat dripping down the sides of his face. His mind was racing, but no clear thoughts could be formed. All he wanted was to make it stop, this rush of his scared heart.

He reached for a bottle that was lying on the floor of the impala. This move happened out of impulse, out of pure habit. He opened the bottle and poured down the clear liquid, expecting a sting in his throat, but it didn't taste like anything. It was just like water, running down his throat without giving him any of the so dearly needed ease that usually came with this quick fix.

He threw the bottle away in rage, and then he grabbed the steering wheel hard. This inescapable soberness was driving him completely mad. How else could he escape?

He was no longer in that horrible place he'd just been in, and yet, he could still feel the heat on his skin - but then he realized it was something else; it was an even but restless pulling and throbbing on his arm. He pulled up the sleef of his jacket and stared at the mark on his arm, burning on his skin. It felt familiar, just like a birth mark that had always been there, but he knew it was something else.

And right there, while speeding up the car, horrible pictures started appearing in his mind. The blade. Eyes looking up at him, their last cry for mercy, before he closed them forever. Seeing this paralyzing fear in others, and feeling it spreading through himself; yet not being able to stop this unrelenting urge. He remembered the ecstasy of feeling the warm blood running through his fingers, and the simultaneous disgust he still felt, seeing himself killing mercilessly. Knowing it was really the mark that led him to do all these terrible things - it changed nothing, _nothing_ at all.

All he could do was drive, and he couldn't even escape with the usual means of alcohol; he had to sit there and take each of his dreadful thoughts, chewing them over and over in his head, resulting in nothing but more guilt and pain and fear.

The night wouldn't cover up his shame either.

And still, he felt as if there were an invisible pair of eyes piercing through him relentlessly.

 

 


	5. The worst is yet to come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Hospital, Angst, Hurt!Dean, a kind of paralysis (he's in a coma, but Dean is living through it, somehow vivid while unable to move)

_Breathe._ Was the first thought that popped up brightly in Dean's mind when he woke up.

_Breathe._

The ceiling he was staring at was a clean white, just like the curtains on the window next to him. Looking around, he started to realize he was in a hospital room.

He was just lying there and he felt very confused - nothing about this felt familiar. Again, he tried to breathe in; but his stomach did not move at all. Soon he realized, he couldn't move any part of his body. His fingers, his toes, his every limb was completely paralyzed; he couldn't even blink.

The only thing he could do was look aroun, and listen. And right then a heart-breaking sob tore through the sterile air.

Immediately, Dean recognized the voice - it was Sammy. He looked over, and there he was sitting, right next to the bed, head in hands, almost silently crying.

Dean wanted to reach out, ask him what's wrong, but was once again violently reminded of his incapability to move.

And nothing had ever hurt him this much - none of the abuse he'd received from his father, none of all the losses in his life, no scorching pain he'd felt in hell. Nothing hurt as much as seeing Sammy hurt and not being able to help.

Sam looked up, his eyes all red and relentlessly filled with tears. "Sam!" Dean wanted to scream, but not the slightest sound escaped his lips. All he could do was lie there and watch him cry, and be consumed by a terrible fear for both himself and his brother.

So that's what he did – he lay there for what felt like forever.

Seeing Sam like this was horrible and heart-breaking; the feeling of the inability to move did not get any more endurable, no, rather it got worse; but, thankfully, he eventually got tired and drifted off to sleep again, all while hearing those constant sobs that kept coldly stabbing his heart.

 

 

 


	6. Black and White

Grey concrete buildings, a city without lights. Where the hell was he? Dean didn't know or care. Ever since he'd woken up he simply couldn't get that picture out of his mind... Sammy sitting next to him, looking utterly and completely broken, crying over Dean, even though he'd been right there.

He was glad to be out of that room, out of this paralysis, unable to do anything about the tears rolling off his brother's cheeks. Yet his sobs were ever-present in Dean's mind, and there was nothing he could do to turn them off.

All of these nightmares he'd seen... His dad, his mum, the mark, hell, seeing people die... Somehow none of it compared to seeing Sam like this. Dean was trying hard to make sense of it all, but in the end, sitting on the cold, hard ground, he realized: it was real. The hospital room, the bed in which he'd found himself, Dean gone, and Sam crying... It was all real.

It's not like it made sense to Dean. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't understand where he was or what was happening to him. He was starting to feel an immense grudge forming in his stomach; he cursed whatever god – if there was one – had put him in this hell.

Still he felt like somebody was watching him, stronger now than ever. And in that moment he snapped. „ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS?“ he shouted, his whole body shaking. Was he going crazy? Who was he even talking to?

Sliding back down onto the ground and leaning against the grey wall of a building, he buried his head in his arms. After a few seconds of pure silence, he suddenly heard steps approaching.

Looking up, he recognized from afar a figure, walking towards him with rather slow but somewhat determined steps.

It was a man with brown hair and a stern look upon his face. He was wearing a beige trenchcoat. There seemed to be an unfathomable amount of light following him, as if it was a part of him.

Dean stood up, slowly. There was still anger boiling in his clenched fists; he felt a light surge of fear, seeing the graceful stranger in front of him, but it was well mixed with annoyance and pain.

„Dean.“

„How do you know my name?“ spat Dean. „Oh, I've been with you for a long time now.“

„Oh really. And who the _hell_ are you?“ Dean growled at the trenchcoated stranger, causing him to halt.

„I'm Castiel, an angel of the lord. Your guardian angel, to be exact,“ replied the man in a low voice.

Immediately, a scoffing chuckle escaped Dean's lips. „Fucking bullshit. You want me to believe angels exist?“ The squinting stranger just stared at him. „And even if they did, it sure doesn't feel like there's one helping me out here.“

After waiting for Dean to finish, Castiel just said, „I'm trying.“

„Well, you're not doing a great job then, are you?“

Castiel inhaled and stepped closer. „I grabbed you tight and raised you from perdition. I saved you from _hell_.“

As angry as Dean was and as ridiculous he thought the whole scene was, he had to admit that Castiel was a bit intimidating, with his low voice, and those eyes that pierced right through him. But he wasn't really scared of him. He was way too angry to be scared, and something about the way Castiel looked at him told Dean he meant well. He _cared_. But why?

„You should've better left me there,“ Dean muttered.

At that, Castiel tilted his head a bit to the left and furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't know what to say to that.

„It wasn't a dream, was it?“ asked Dean after a while of pondering to himself, his mind always being drawn back to Sam. „The hospital room. _Sammy,_ “ he added.

„No. It was real.“

„What happened?“ Dean was staring into the dull sky, trying to look anywhere but into Castiel's eyes, as he felt his eyes starting to water, trying to suppress the light sting by clenching his jaw.

„You got into a car crash. You're in a coma,“ the angel explained.

Swallowing hard, Dean now finally turned his head and looked at Castiel again, his eyes filled with anger and ache. „ _Why wouldn't you bring me back then?!“_

Accompanied by a light sigh, Cas replied, „Because you didn't want me to.“

„What the hell is that supposed to mean?“ Dean spat, feeling a new rush of anger welling up inside of him.

„Just like with vessels, you need to say yes, to give your consent in order for me to be able to help you. And you didn't. You did not want to come back to life, and I can't force you to.“

Nostrils flarring, Dean snapped at Castiel.

„Shut up. You don't know me. You don't know anything about me. Just - _go to hell.“_

He stomped off, leaving the speechless angel behind.

He didn't need to listen to this, didn't need to have some fucking _angel_ , of all beings, tell him it was _his_ fault he was stuck here. As if he was _choosing_ to live through all of these nightmares. Castiel could shove his help elsewhere.

 


	7. Let me

When all the anger, the adrenaline in his blood, had slowly faded, it had left him a tired mess.

He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all: once again he felt screwed over by the heavens, and now there was even a more specific person – or angel – to blame it on.

But he didn't have the energy to be angry anymore, so all he felt was defeated and tired.

It didn't come as a surprise when Castiel appeared in front of him again.

Against Dean's expectations, he didn't say anything though. Without a word, he sat down next to Dean.

„How long have I been gone for?“ Dean asked after a while of silence.

„About 6 months.“ Though the answer short and simple, the effect of those words felt like a sharp stab of a knife in Dean's chest.

„And he still keeps coming back,“ Dean stated, disbelief staining his voice.

During the few words the two men had exchanged, their world had started to change.

All around them, white walls were building up and Dean watched the hospital room come back to life. A bed appearing out of thin air, the greyish light of his dreams turning into uncomfortably bright lamps, hanging from the ceiling. And eventually, of course, Sam's figure took shape again, a strong but beaten-down silhouette against the window.

Seeing his brother hurt just as much as it had last time, if not more, now that he knew what was going on.

„But I'm not dead,“ Dean pleaded. „I'm right here, I'm _right here_ , why doesn't he know?“

Dean's eyes were fixated upon his younger brother, maybe hoping he could break the veil between them and reach Sam, while Castiel was just silently looking at Dean.

„Where the hell am I? Why am I stuck here?“ Dean's voice was a mixture of anger and desperation.

„I told you, you don't want to-“ Castiel started to reply but Dean cut him right off.

„You don't get to tell me what I want and what I don't want. Do you think I want him to suffer like that? To think I'm gone but still not be able to move on? Of course I don't. Of course I'd rather just fucking wake up.“

For a moment, there was a dead silence between them, even Sam seemed to have given up his pleas.

Then Castiel softly said, „Dean. When you died you went to hell. I raised you from perdition, but a part of you... A part of you was resisting. Your soul got caught somewhere in between hell, heaven and earth. It was lost for a long time. Eventually I found you and I've been watching over you, but I can't bring you back if you don't want me to.“

Castiel's manner had changed. The last words he'd spoken very softly, with a look in his eyes that Dean couldn't quite decipher.

„Then maybe you should have left me to burn in hell. At least in hell all those nightmares, all the pain was to be expected. Now I'm just reliving all of this crap, and Sammy... he can't even move on.“

And once again, that squint and head-tilt was back. „You don't think you deserve to be saved.“

Those few words had left a bitter taste in Dean's mouth and a feeling in his heart, something like terrible vulnerability.

As always, he overplayed his emotions with sarcasm, but they both knew that's all it was: a feeble attempt to fight back the reality of his heartache.

„So you're my shrink now, too?“

Castiel sighed once again – that one was really not an easy one.

„I just want to help, Dean.“

The way Castiel spoke his name made Dean shiver and he kind of hated how intimate it sounded.

„But _why?_ Why do you _care_ so fucking much?!“

Dean had now turned towards Castiel all the way, staring at him tensely.

Castiel replied with a question. „Why do you find it so strange that someone cares about you?“

At that, Dean exhaled and he had to avert his gaze from those pleading eyes.

He stared at Sammy across the room. He had never seen him this devastated, not even when they had lost their dad. And _he_ was the reason he felt that way.

„ _Because everyone would be better off without me_ ,“ Dean muttered under his breath.

„Even now that I'm not _here_ I'm just hurting people.“

He ran his hand across his face, swallowing down tears.

„Does he look like he's better off to you?“ Castiel asked, gesturing towards Sam, sitting there, the dissolved wreck he was.

Dean didn't answer.

„Dean. The world without you would be anything but better. You help people. I have never seen a human as selfless as you are. If there's one thing I've learned while watching humans on earth is that selfless people are rarely happy. You have a lot on your shoulders, but you've done so much good on earth, and I know you will keep doing good. You _deserve_ to be saved.“

Dean stayed very still, just focusing on the wall across from him.

„And if you don't believe it... Sam does. He loves you. He needs you. All you have to do is say _yes._ “

The still air in the room was torn through by the light but sudden sob that trembled through Dean's chest.

No matter how hard he tried to fight back, he couldn't hold back the tears that were now rolling down his cheeks.

Silently, the angel beside him laid his arm around Dean, clumsily trying to comfort him.

After what felt like an eternity, Dean looked up when his breath had calmed down a bit.

It was a tiny whisper, barely audible, but Castiel heard him.

„Yes.“

 

 

  


 


	8. Talk to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is still haunted by nightmares; Sam just wants to help. Dean eventually realizes the hard truth. I will try to update soon, tomorrow at the latest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, really, smut will enrich the next and last (I think) chapter.

 

First, everything was swimming before his eyes, the white of the walls, the green of the room plants, the stinging in the back of his skull and the faint chatter and noise from the hospital.

Then, slowly, it all came into focus. He inhaled and was eternally relieved to feel his chest rising, his fingers shaking and his lashes brushing his skin as he blinked several times, trying to adjust to the brightness of the room.

_Sam._

He rushed up, trying to come into a sitting position, driven by the thought of finding his brother. A loud groan escaped his throat as he sank back down, pain shooting through his torso.

The room was silent apart from his heavy breathing, the steady beeping of the machine and the occasional grunts he brought forth.

Eventually the pain ebbed off and Dean turned his head, finding the chair next to the bed empty. In that moment the door at the end of the room swung open and Sam walked in, at first completely focused on the granola bar in his hand - until Dean tried to say his name, only a strangled sound coming out.

Sam looked up, his eyes full of surprise, just standing there in disbelief for a moment, staring at Dean who tried to smile.

„Dean.“

He hummed in a kind of confirming way, just now noticing how dry his throat was.

In two big strides Sam had reached Dean's bed, falling over him, his weight pushing down onto Dean. For a moment Dean didn't care about how heavy he was, just endlessly relieved to see him again; but then it got hard to breathe and he managed to bring forth a strangled „Sam“.

He understood and quickly moved away again, sitting back into the chair, looking at Dean in a kind of way that told Dean he'd need a moment to process it.

To be fair, so did Dean. He was still pretty confused about everything, the details of his long journey slowly dawning on him; all he knew right now was that he was happy to be back.

„You... You're here,“ Sam said, and Dean replied, in a hoarse (finally kind of cooperating) voice, „You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say those words.“

Sam just shook his head and breathed in, sinking back into his chair, an obviously immense weight slipping off of his shoulders.

After a minute of silence, Sam muttered, „I knew you'd come back.“

Dean lightly chuckled at that, realizing his brother had been more sure of that than he himself.

„I guess I should go get the doctor,“ Sam said, getting up. „Yeah.“

A team of young doctors came in along with the doctor and Sam, all of them curiously glaring at Dean. The doctor checked his heart, made all kinds of tests and came to the conclusion, that, peculiarly, besides the many bruises and the one broken arm there were no worse injuries, his brain and heart and everything else were looking just fine.

However, they did not _feel_ completely fine. Rather often, whenever Dean found himself alone, he thought back to Castiel and everything he'd said. His heart still ached about all the things he'd relived, and maybe also about the things that Cas had said, all that with Dean not wanting to wake up...

But he pushed these thoughts out of his mind, telling himself that he was back with Sam and that that's all that mattered. That he'd be selfish to be unhappy, after literally coming back to life after being dead for months; he'd gotten everything he'd wanted: he knew his brother was okay.

 

 

* * *

 

  


The keys clicked as they unlocked the door.

Sam walked in, Dean right behind him, a curious feeling sneaking up on him as he realized how long he hadn't been at home.

_Home._

Pictures rolled through Dean's mind, and he remembered the young boys he'd seen that one stormy night. He knew it was him and Sam, and he smiled at the memory, thinking back to this small moment of calm before the storm had hit him right on.

The only place he'd ever truly felt at home wasn't even a place. It was wherever Sam was.

Dean had stood there, consumed in thought, just for a moment. He jerked himself back into reality and sat down on the couch next to Sam.

Sam tossed him a water bottle and Dean looked at him with raised eyebrows. „Don't think you're supposed to drink at the moment,“ Sam just said, a small grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Dean groaned, but it was only a half-serious kind of annoyance.

They ended up watching TV for the whole afternoon.

  


Really he just lay around all day – sleeping, watching TV, sometimes reading; and when Sam wasn't paying attention, Dean did a bit of research on possible cases. Even if he knew they wouldn't go hunting again any time soon, he couldn't keep himself away, as he felt a tug in his chest... he was bored, and more than anything, he wanted something to do, something to keep himself from thinking so much.

Sam took care of him. He cooked for him, making sure Dean was eating healthy; he made sure Dean took his meds, and most of all, he was simply there, giving Dean a sense of security and the feeling that maybe, after all, things could go back to normal.

He had put everything on pause for his brother, devoting his life solely to being around for him and making sure Dean was okay.

Repeatedly he had to tell him that he didn't mind, and Dean couldn't help but think back to Cas who had asked him, „Why do you think it's so strange that someone cares about you?“

He sighed and took Sam for his word, willing himself to stop doubting everything.

Really, he tried to move on. He almost got himself convinced he had. But there were barely any nights without nightmares. He seemed to relive everything, again and again.

Yes, the bad parts – but also... Castiel. Dean dreamt of blue eyes, blinding but warm light, and, curiously, wings. He'd never seen Castiel's wings, if he had any – Dean didn't know how exactly angels worked compared to how humans pictured them; and he didn't really want to know.

He kept wondering what this all meant; was there a god, then? A god that allowed all of these terrible things in the world to happen?

Maybe knowing there were angels, even a guardian angel watching over him, should have given him hope and joy. But really, it just made him angry. And so he blocked out those thoughts. Though he could never really forget about Castiel.

As much as he thought he'd moved on, the nightmares didn't stop. More than once Sam had ran into his room, gun in hand, after hearing Dean scream terribly.

Upon seeing Dean wringing in his bed, he quickly moved over him and shook him awake. „Dean, Dean,“ he whispered. „It's okay, it was just a dream. You're okay.“

Dean hated it. But he hated it even more when Sam decided it was about time to stop ignoring these things.

„There's nothing to talk about,“ Dean simply said, fetching a water from the fridge and purposely not looking at Sam.

„Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think your nightmares are getting any better.“

Dean quietly poured the cold water down his sore throat.

„So?“

„So we should do something about it... maybe you should talk to someone,“ Sam replied.

„Therapy? Really?“ Dean asked, now making his way to the couch. „You know me.“

Yes, Sam knew Dean and he knew that Dean was not one to easily open up. But he also knew that it was the only way to make things better. How was he supposed to get all those things out of his system, if he couldn't even speak about them?

He sighed and sat down next to Dean.

„What... What was it like?“ Sam asked, a hint of caution in his voice.

Dean stared at the black TV screen, not wanting to look at Sam, as he already felt certain things coming up, only thinking back to what he'd expierenced.

„It was... like a dream. I lived through my whole life again. And then there was also the hospital room... and you. And I was right there but you didn't see me and I couldn't move. Just couldn't-“ Dean stopped, feeling an uncomfortably tight feeling rushing up his chest and into his throat.

„I can't really explain,“ he then stated, wanting the conversation to be over.

Sam nodded. He had noticed how Dean was struggling and he did not want to push him anymore. He'd already opened up more than expected.

There was another thing he wanted to ask, burning on the tip of his tongue. _Cas._

Sam had heard Dean muttering the word, probably a name, 'Cas' in his sleep. He wanted to know what it meant, who it was, but he didn't bring himself to. He didn't want to make Dean feel any worse, reliving those obviously painful memories.

Dean reached out for the remote control and turned on the TV, sipping on his water.

Sam silently got himself a drink and settled back down next to Dean.

  


 

* * *

 

 

Dean had tried therapy.

Dean Winchester had gone to therapy.

It wasn't something he'd thought he'd ever do. But here he was, sitting in a neatly decorated room, across a red-haired young man.

He seemed nice enough, but it didn't change anything.

„So, Mr. Winchester,“ the redhead said, „I see you've woken from a coma 3 weeks ago, is that right?“ Dean nodded.

„And I see you've recovered remarkably well, physically.“

Dean looked down at his hands. If only the bruises had been solely of the physical kind.

„What brought you here, Dean?“ he then asked, putting down his files and looking right into his eyes.

His fingers intertwined in his lap, his right thumb rubbing nervous circles into his left palm, Dean looked up.

„Well... I've been having nightmares, and my brother thought maybe this,“ he gestured to the shrink and then to himself, „might help...“

„Or maybe you have some meds that would help,“ Dean half-joked.

The man across him smiled. „Well, things like that are usually not that easily solved. Not if they have an underlying cause, which they usually do.“

Dean licked his lips.

„Tell me about your nightmares. Are they always the same?“

Dean thought about it for a moment. „More or less. I guess it's just smaller parts of a bigger picture.“ Blue eyes crossed his mind. „Any recurring themes?“

„Uh, yeah...“ Dean replied, his thoughts having drifted off to Castiel again.

„What is it?“ the ginger asked.

Dean looked up quickly. He wasn't gonna tell him about Castiel, was he? He couldn't. What was he supposed to say? _So this angel saved me from hell but I didn't wanna go back; he was watching over me and had to convince me to let him bring me back... Yeah, I've been dreaming about him every night._

„Nevermind, it's, uh, i'ts nothing,“ Dean quickly said.

Dr. Jones looked at him, his eyes showing a bit of softness.

„Dean. This won't work if you're not willing to open up to me.“

Dean shifted in his seat and swallowed. „Yeah, I don't think this is going to work, either,“ he said simply and got up. „Thanks for your time.“

He was out of the room before his therapist could say anything.

The cut-short session had Dean feeling even worse than before.

Of course this couldn't work. Dean would never be able to tell a normal person everything – he was a hunter, for fuck's sake, and all the things he'd seen wouldn't make sense to anyone who wasn't in the business – hell, they sometimes didn't even make sense to him.

But he couldn't talk to Sam or anyone like that either. He loved his brother, and maybe that's why he didn't want to burden him.

He wouldn't ever be able to talk to anyone.

 

He went home, never told Sam about his attempt at therapy, and he left it at that

He'd be okay, eventually. And if there's anyone who's good at pretending, it was Dean.

Only every once in a while, Dean did wonder whether his angel was still watching over him.  


 


	9. None other than Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's nightmares have returned, and now worse than ever. When he finds himself having a panic attack in a motel room all by himself, he calls for the only person that can help him now. Castiel ends up being there for Dean in more ways than either of them had thought he could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The promised smut is here! (And fluff!)  
> Also I am sorry, I really lost inspiration for a while there, but luckily I got it back for this last chapter :) So I'm very glad to finally finish this and give it an ending that kind of does justice to the original idea of the story. Let me know what you think. Also about the chapter before this one... Was it too very boring?  
> Also I am so completely out of energy now, Idek why. So I hope this is okay.
> 
> Hah, this chapter almost has more words than all of the other ones together. Well...Good thing this one contains the smut.
> 
> Anyway. I hope you enjoy this! Let me know.

„I don't know, Dean, maybe this really is just a coincidence...“

Dean was staring down into his book, hardly focusing on the letters in front of him.

Something about this didn't feel right – something felt different, but Dean simply couldn't put his finger on what it was.

Exhaling in annoyance as the text he'd been trying to read for the past ten minutes got blurry again, Dean shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

Sam looked over at him. He'd forced Dean – yes, forced, there was no other way Dean would have let him – to get out of the driver's seat and let Sam drive. Dean had been feeling dizzy all day, and already a bit the day before. Probably because he was exhausted to his bones.

Lately, sleeping wasn't exactly a thing he did voluntarily anymore. After a while of things finally looking up, the nightmares had slowly, maliciously returned, and this time even worse than last time.

„Dean,“ Sam sighed. „You should really get some sleep.“

„Oh, I wish I could, believe me.“

„Can't you try again? Dude, it's been like, what, four days?“

„I've had worse.“ Sam just raised his eyebrows, staring ahead at the road.

„At least get some rest. I'm not taking you with me like this.“

Dean grunted. „Oh, come on. I'm fine. Besides, someone has to go check it out. It's our only lead, we can't just let it slip away.“

He'd closed the book in his lap and was now looking out of the window, simply watching the houses passing by.

„I know. That's why I'm going. But _you,_ “ Sam said, now pulling over into the parking lot of the motel they were currently staying at, „are going to go and sleep. Or rest or whatever.“

Dean had only now noticed where they were, and he now yanked his head to look at Sam, a half angry, half pleading look in his eyes.

„Sammy, come on. I'm _fine_.“

Sam just chuckled. „Oh please, who are you even trying to fool at this point? Dude, you were practically falling asleep over that book.“

Dean just shook his head and stayed put.

„Dean. I'll be fine. Go, please. I'm gonna call you if I find something, and you can call me too, just don't make me shove you out of the car.“

Dean rolled his eyes, and after a moment of contemplation, he opened the door of the car and stepped outside. Before closing it, he stuck his head in one last time and said, „Better take care of baby.“

Sam smiled and said, „Don't worry.“ Then he drove off.

 _And take care of yourself,_ Dean had wanted to say. He couldn't.

He'd be fine, he told himself and walked to the motel room. He unlocked the door and after taking off only his leather jacket, he fell into bed.

He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, he didn't think he'd let himself, but lying there now, he was reminded of how comfortable beds were... Even old, dirty motel beds. Soon enough he drifted off, still wearing all of his clothes.

 

* * *

  


This time was different. Sam had been away before, leaving Dean alone for a day or two. And, though the empty flat, the lack of distraction, and having no one to remind him of reality did make it easier for the bad thoughts to find their way back into Dean's mind, he'd been fine. He'd distract himself by watching trashy tv shows and texted Sam, holding up more for his little brother than for himself.

But this time was different.

Dean didn't know why, not until he appeared in his dream.

He'd been dreaming the usual, only that night it all felt much more real. As if his dreams were about to eat him alive, and take him right back into that inescapable rollercoaster filled with the ghosts and the blood of his past.

He woke up, drenched in sweat, a familiar pulsing in his arm demanding his attention. The mark of cain was as visible as ever, an angry red glow. As Dean now lifted his head and took the room into view, a horrible picture presented itself; a dozen dead bodies all over the floor and blood, _so much blood_ , flooding the ground, dripping off the walls, covering his whole body, making him feel warm and sticky...

With a cry Dean rushed up, his heart beating so fast, he thought it was about to jump out of his chest. He woke up only so the whole thing would start again. The cain of mark, other times his parents, sometimes hell... It didn't stop.

But then, then he woke up and everything was dark, and he wasn't scared. He wasn't scared anymore.

In the darkness he was able to make out a silhouette, slowly becoming clearer. Seconds passed and Dean just breathed and waited. Now that the yellow eyed demon came into complete focus, it seemed to Dean as if there was a mirror hiding somewhere beneath the darkness.

It didn't feel like there was anyone else there. Just the demon, and Dean, and soon he couldn't tell himself apart from the monster that was sitting in front him, smiling down at him in wrath, the most horrible face Dean had ever seen - and it felt just like a reflection.

Maybe it was.

After all, Dean couldn't really say he was any better; he'd killed uncountable people before. And so many innocent ones.

He used to blame himself for the death of his parents, and even if he had stopped tormenting himself with those thoughts at night, they had come up again, swelling at the bottom of his stomach, ever since he'd relived it all.

So were they really that different, him and this demon?

Pondering these things, he slowly felt himself become part of the darkness, the shadows filling him more and more. Like a movie, many scenes he'd relived so many times started to play out in front of him. And for the first time he just sat there feeling almost... content.  


In hot rushes, hard breathing and an immense amount of sweat and tears, Dean woke up, screaming breathlessly.

He sat up, looking around, and was incredibly relieved to find the motel room he'd drifted off in lacking of dead bodies, demons or anything of such kind.

What relieved him most though was that he felt something again. The tears staining his cheeks were never a nice feeling, but it was so good to know he was himself again, to feel guilt, and pain – it was the only thing that enabled him to tell himself apart from the demon in his dream.

Coming to his senses again, he played the dream again through his mind, trying to figure out just why something had changed. After all these weeks and months of reliving the same crap, why had he suddenly seen something so different?

Was he going completely insane now?

But then he realized, this one was more than a dream, more than a spooky memory that wouldn't let go of him.

He got up quickly and went to the small table in the middle of the room where he found several books still spread out from their last session of research.

He stared down at them, not even reading anything, as now suddenly the pieces came together in his mind.

„Fire...“ Dean muttered to himself. He thought back to everything they'd talked about. There had been a string of demon incidents, somehow trackable in an almost too perfect line that led through 3 states.

This whole thing had caught Sam and Dean's attention, as there were a row of „accidents“ and killings right along that line, as if there was some uncontrollable, rather inexpierenced force at work.

 _The demon.... Yellow eyes._ Was that it?

Dean quickly thumbed through the town's police records, dating about ten years back and found exactly what he'd suspected: ten years ago, _exactly_ ten years ago, there were a few fires. Only four of them, but looking at the locations they roughly followed the same line along which those demon incidents had taken place.

The cases were filed as unsolved – either there were no survivors, or then they had gone completely mad. Oftentimes there were only children left that had disappeared right after the fire. These incidents seemed strange, but suspicious due to their close dating, so even the police thought there might be something there, even if they never found out what.

Well, Dean just did.

His mind was racing and his heart picked up pace, as he came to the conclusion he'd been wishing he wouldn't come to:

The culprit at hand was the same demon that had killed both their parents.

 _And now_ , Dean suddenly thought, _now Sammy's out there alone_.

He wasn't really able to think right then; he wasn't sure where Sam was, or what this meant, and surely the demon wasn't right there, all of those incidents were merely results of the doings of that monster from ten years ago, right?

But only the thought of losing his brother to the same demon, the thought of Sammy being anywhere near this kind of danger had brought on a horrible nausea that made Dean stop in his tracks and lean against the wall.

There was nothing he wanted to do more than get out, get out of that door and go look for his brother, make sure he was safe; but how? Sam had his car. He'd have to get a taxi or something. Dean searched himself for his phone, rushed to the bed to see if it had wound up somewhere between the sheets, and after, to his disappointment, not finding it there, his glance fell onto the leather jacket he had tossed to the ground hours before.

Quickly – almost too quickly, his stomach turning in a dreadful way and his head filling with dizziness all over again – he kneeled to the ground and finally grasped his phone.

His fingers shook as he lit his phone screen and looked at the time. _12:58am._ He'd been out for too long – and why wasn't Sam back yet?

Another lurch in his stomach.

A taxi would take too long. Clasping the phone in his cramped hands, he stilled for a moment, not really able to grasp a thought at all.

„Seriously,“ he muttered to himself as he unlocked his phone and started typing in Sammy's phone number – he hadn't even thought of calling him, not in this state of mind.

His chest as well as his every breath was quivering lightly as he held up the phone to his ear, impatiently waiting for it to connect.

Immediately it cut to voicemail and Dean stopped breathing, just for a few seconds.

Every hope he'd been clinging onto sank in his body like lead, slowly dissolving and hotly burning in his veins, pumping poison through them.

It seemed to shut down his whole system; he just stood there, the high-pitched beeping and the following voice that told him to leave a message drifted off, away, before the phone slipped out of Dean's fingers and fell to the ground with a muffled thud.

His mind was racing with so many thoughts and pictures that it almost felt blank again. He wanted to run, wanted to go find his brother, but he simply couldn't move.

Frozen to the spot he stood there, as his heart raced with his breath, neither seeming to ever reach the finish-line.

_This is all my fault._

Dean couldn't help it. He replayed everything in his mind – why had he gotten out of the car, why had he let Sammy go all by himself? Why had he let his father walk out the door so many times, leaving them alone, one day for good? Why hadn't he killed this demon a long time ago, before he'd gotten hold of his father?

Truthfully, Dean had given up on himself a long time ago already. All the times he'd messed up, all the lifes he had taken, he couldn't change anything about that. Sam was the only thing left in his life that he hadn't ruined completely. The only person he could really keep from harm, the only person he felt he _had_ to keep safe.

And now he had even failed to do that one thing.

Without a command from him really, his legs gave in and he sank to the ground, hands coming up to cover his eyes. First, he wiped away the now freely running tears, and when they wouldn't stop, Dean pressed the heels of his hands onto his eyelids, willing himself to stop crying.

Shoulders tense, his chest built up an unimaginable pressure. He dug his palms into his eyes more forcefully as he felt a shiver running through his skin that was soon replaced by the feeling that his whole body was itching.

Dean yanked his hands from his face to scratch and claw at his arms, his legs, his chest, trying to hold on to something, to _anything._

But it was an itch he couldn't scratch, and everything hurt, and all he wanted to do was rip open his skin, find any kind of relief to this overwhelming anxiety, worry and fear he was feeling.

_What is happening?_

Those were the only thoughts forming in his mind, other than the repeated words telling him

_it's your fault_

_he's gone_

_you should've just stayed and burned in hell_

_look at all the harm you've done_

_all the people you've lost_

_no, the people you've_ killed

_and pushed away_

_the angel was right_

_of course you don't_

_deserve_

_to_

_be_

_saved_  


A sob tore through his chest, and the mess in his head getting steadily, scaringly quickly louder, Dean had only one ounce of hope left in him.

It took all of him to say it, and yet somehow it rolled off his tongue so easily.

„ _Cas_ -,“ another sob interrupted the almost inaudible call.

_Cas. Cas. Cas._

The silence seemed overwhelming as Dean waited, wondering if the angel would come.

Before he dared to speak the words again, a flutter filled the room, shortly darkening it, before the walls and everything around Dean seemed to take on a soft, warmish glow.

And, really, there he was, the angel, tall above Dean, stepping closer.

„Dean.“

He couldn't help his ragged breathing that just didn't want to calm down. Staring straight ahead at the brown carpeted floor, he tried to calm himself down with no success. He hated feeling so exposed.

Castiel stepped closer and kneeled down in front of Dean, when the hunter didn't look at him. „Dean,“ he said again, in that low voice of his, and he reached out to softly lift Dean's face by his chin.

Green eyes overflown with tears looked back at him. For a moment Dean just wanted to shout and push and be angry at Cas, ask where he was. But his vocal chords did not work, and something within him instead pushed him forwards, wrapping his arms around the angel's torso.

Castiel was rather surprised as Dean buried his face on his chest, still breathing heavily. Then he reciprocated the notion and reached his arms around Dean, one hand lightly stroking his back.

„I'm sorry, there's, ah, a lot going on in heaven right now... They needed me,“ Cas said, somehow feeling the need to explain himself.

„But I needed you,“ a small voice came from below him.

Cas sighed and replied, „I'm not your personal angel, you know.“

He had attempted to make a joke like Dean always did, but there came no reaction from Dean. This had to be serious, Cas thought to himself. Or maybe he just didn't get how jokes worked that well yet.

Finally, Cas took hold of Dean's shoulders and pushed him away just a little, so he could look at him again.

„What is going on? Are you hurt?“ he asked, tilting his head.

Dean had his eyes closed and he did not want to open them back up.

After a few moments words started rolling off his lips. „No, I- Sammy... He's all alone. Why did I let him go all by himself? I- He's, he's not picking up, we have to go find him... I shouldn't have-“

Cas cut off Dean's frantic babbling, „Dean. Sam's okay.“

It took a moment for Dean to realize what Cas had said.

He opened his eyes, finding Castiel's blue ones focused on him with an intensity he could barely handle.

„He's okay,“ Cas repeated, this time a bit softer.

He'd been watching over Dean, as well as over his brother, and he'd have known if either of them were in serious life-threatening danger.

„And so are you,“ he added, still looking intently at Dean.

Dean wanted to look away, wanted to hide and cry all to himself. But he couldn't. Something but Cas' eyes, something about this angel's hold on him was so strong, he couldn't turn away even if he tried.

Finally he found his voice again, his mind clearing up just a little bit.

„Why am I here like this, like a fucking wreck, then?“ he brought forth, pain mixing with anger in his voice.

Cas sighed and his grip loosened.

„Dean, humans and feelings are so complex. I don't really understand them completely yet, but one thing I have understood is that there is more to everything than what you can see in one moment. One bad day doesn't mean you won't be okay again. One setback doesn't mean you aren't getting better.“

Dean's breathing had calmed down a bit, though his chest was still shaking from time to time. Tears were still running down his face, now more than ever.

Timidly, Cas reached out his arms again, holding Dean, trying to offer some support.

After a while of the two of them just sitting there, Dean's ragged breaths warm on Cas' skin, a small smile snuck onto Dean's lips. „If you're not my 'personal angel',“ he said, a chuckle sounding in his voice – maybe Cas did get jokes, „will you be my friend?“

He felt kind of stupid asking something like this, but there he was, doing it anyway.

Cas smiled. „I don't exactly know how that works, but I can try.“

They held each for a few moments and only now Dean noticed he'd been tightly clutching onto Cas' trenchcoat, as if to anchor himself.

Then Cas got up and Dean mourned the loss of him.

The angel held out a hand for Dean to take, helped him get up and said, „You should get some sleep.“

Dean sat onto the edge of the bed, took off his shoes and lay back down.

He looked at Cas who was still quietly standing there.

Without really thinking, simply giving in to the urge buzzing in his fingertips, he reached out, took Cas' hand and pulled him down close. In a matter of seconds, Dean's lips had captured Cas', and he smiled a little bit at the look of surprise in Cas' blue eyes. Admittedly, Dean had probably been just as surprised.

After a moment, Cas mimicked Dean's movements and softly returned the kiss. It was a soft brush of their lips, and it already had Dean feeling all dizzy, but this time in a good way, unlike last time.

As their lips parted, Dean found those blue eyes looking right through him again, a squint and head tilt showing some confusion.

Castiel didn't know what this meant, all he knew was that kisses were deemed as something very intimate between humans, but it seemed to comfort Dean in some way, and so he was more than glad to be there for him that way.

Their faces were still inches away from each other.

Dean then slowly let go of Cas' hand, which the taller man took as a sign to distance himself again. Since Dean had pulled him down, Cas was sitting on the bed, next to Dean. He straightened himself up, still looking down at Dean, whose fatigue was now taking over him, a content feeling settling in his heart.

Cas pulled up the sheets, tucking Dean in neatly, as he was slipping back into sleep.

  


* * *

 

 

For the first time in too long, Dean had slept without having a single nightmare. It was a wonderfully deep and blissful sleep, even though it was short. The next time he woke up it was still dark. It must have been something like 5am, close to the crack of dawn.

Blinking his eyes open, he found Cas sitting next to him, just like before he'd fallen asleep. Had he been watching over him all this time? Maybe that's why he hadn't had any nightmares.

„Cas,“ Dean said, his voice a bit raspy after having just woken up, causing the angel to turn his head and look at him.

„Dean. Can't you sleep anymore? Did you have nightmares?“ he asked, a bit surprised about Dean waking up already.

„No, no... I'm fine.“

Silence again.

Until now, Dean had always hated silence, his mind going crazy. But right now it was only racing with good things, a little bit too exciting things; the thought of kissing Cas and how it had made him feel to be touched and held by the angel.

He didn't know what to say, and so he simply reached out again, lightly touching Cas' arm and still looking right into his eyes.

Castiel reacted by moving over to Dean and lowering his head until their lips were touching again. This time Dean was the one more taken by suprise.

First gentle kisses soon turned into more. Dean ran his hands through Castiel's hair and down his neck, and he felt a hunger burn in the pit of his stomach. He wanted more, _needed_ more.

He pulled Cas closer, his kisses becoming more demanding, his tongue finding its way into Cas' mouth, exploring and caressing until Cas' hand came up to Dean's face to brush over his cheek.

Dean's mouth then travelled down to Cas' jaw, his neck, where he left kisses, and sucked and nibbled, provoking a low moan from Cas.

The angel had never done or felt anything like it. But, at first determined to make Dean feel better, he now also found himself swept away by those beautiful sensations running through his skin.

Dean rocked his hips up at Cas, to his delight finding a hardness beneath his pants, just like in his own, straining against the denim.

Cas had now taken initiative to kiss and lick along Dean's neck, slowly figuring out what Dean liked best, judging by the little sighs and moans he was bringing forth.

He was interrupted in his exploration when Dean hurried to take off Cas' trenchcoat. He helped him, subsequently also loosening his tie and before he could get to his shirt, Dean had ripped it open, immediately running his fingers along the beautifully toned muscles.

Cas was now straddling Dean's hips, soon exploring Dean's skin further along, after also taking off his shirt. He nibbled and placed soft kisses to the tender skin, loving the warmth it emitted. His lips closed around Dean's hard nipples, tongue swirling and teeth just lightly teasing.

Dean had never been teased like this. No one had ever made him feel like this, so quickly dissolved in want and impatient desire.

„Cas,“ Dean breathed, „I need _more._ “

Cas chuckled against Dean's skin, seeing how defeated and quivering Dean was begging underneath him, Dean Winchester who was usually such a loud-mouthed, angry, sarcastic fighter who always had to be in control.

 _Maybe that's what he needs,_ Cas thought to himself, _losing control for a bit._

Castiel knew how sex worked, and he knew what Dean wanted; and for the first time he understood what the whole hype was about.

As Dean rocked up at Cas again, a shiver spread across Cas' skin, his cock pulsing, needing to be freed from the tight fabric they were straining against.

„Stay still,“ he whispered, and got up to unzip his pants and push them down, throwing them to the floor.

As his erection sprung free, Dean looked up in absolute adoration, and complete desperation. There was arousal sizzling right underneath his skin and after all of Cas' teasing, he just needed this tension to finally be resolved.

Cas came back down, planting another kiss on Dean, instincitvely rutting up against him, a low moan escaping his lips. He now needed this just as much as Dean did, even if he seemed more composed on the outside.

He got onto taking Dean's pants off, finally freeing his hard dick as well. It didn't take him long to tease along Dean's torso again, and then reach his length, experimentally licking up and down the shaft, wrapping his lips around the tender flesh.

The sounds Dean was making, whimpers mixed up with curses, told Cas he was doing something right. He licked along his balls as well, then went onto sucking the skin of his thighs, as well as the spot right behind his cock, which made Dean rut up uncontrollably again.

Dean shook beneath Cas' fingers that were holding his hips down. When Dean whimpered Cas' name again, Cas just looked up, dark blue eyes squinting at him, and asked, „What do you need, Dean?“

„Need to feel you, feel you inside of me,“ he whimpered, his body feeling supersensitive all over.

Cas mouth travelled along the same skin, and then his tongue slowly slid into Dean's tight hole.

„ _Oh_ ,“ Dean sighed, and none of his reactions from before compared to how he was whining and writhing now that Cas tongue was slipping in and out of him, slicking up all of his skin.

Dean managed to bring forth a few words between the many moans, telling Cas what drawer the lube was in.

Soon he had added a finger and then another one, massaging the cold liquid in and out of Dean, teasingly finger-fucking him; and even though Dean was surely not quite ready yet – he gulped as he looked down at Cas' thick cock – he couldn't take anymore of the teasing or the waiting.

„If you don't stop I'm gonna come right now,“ Dean gasped, and when Cas stopped his doings to look up at the green-eyed Winchester, Dean took that moment of hesitation to pull him up, overpower him and flip him over so that Dean was now straddling Cas' lap.

Not wasting any time, Dean grabbed Cas' dick, first stroking it two or three times and then lining it up with his entrance.

Slowly and with hissing and cursing, his beautiful crunched up in pain as well as pleasure, he lowered himself onto Cas, who was completely taken aback at the amazing feeling that welcomed him.

Dean was so tight and warm, and it felt so _right_ to be there, so close to him.

When Dean had slid all the way down and Cas was buried balls-deep inside of him, Dean gingerly moved up again, and then back down.

He soon found a rhythm that felt just right, fast enough to slowly work them both up to their orgasms, but slow enough to really feel Cas' cock stretching him out and burning inside of him.

Even though Dean was now on top, somehow Cas still had this strong, controlling air around him, as he held Dean's hips in an almost bruising grip.

Again and again, Dean gasped Cas' name, whereas Cas brought forth low growls and moans, that shook Dean's whole body.

„Dean,“ Cas moaned, „I think I'll...“ Dean leaned down to kiss his angel and whispered, „Me too.“

Cas kissed Dean back, a kiss so hungry and needy, it seemed he was about to devour him. His hands travelled along Dean's side and then settled by his hips again, as he picked up speed, now lifting his hips to meet Dean's movements. He started thrusting into Dean in an incredibly powerful and fast, and yet still so deep manner, Dean felt himself fall apart above Cas, coming right over him with a last whine of Cas' name.

Feeling Dean coming around him, squeezing his cock and burying his fingers in his shoulders, trying to keep himself from collapsing, pushed Cas over the edge as well and he came into Dean with a mixture of a loud grunt and a breathy moan.

As Dean slumped onto Cas, his breath completely taken away, Cas brought his arms around to wrap them around Dean, holding him close.

Together, they slowly found their breaths again. It was silent, 'till Cas felt Dean's tears running down his shoulders and felt small sobs shake his body.

„Dean?“ he spoke into the younger man's neck, as he turned his face.

Dean lifted himself off of Cas, ran the back of his hand along his face to wipe at the tears, and then moved off of Cas to lay down next to him.

„Are you okay?“

Dean nodded and took a moment to find his breath again. The tears had welled off.

„I- Thank you.“

Cas had turned to his side to look at Dean, that squint, those furrowed eyebrows and that head-tilt appeared again.

As if Dean knew that Cas was about to ask for what he was thanking him, Dean added, „Thank you for being here.“

Cas nodded. „Of course,“ he replied. „That's what friends do, right?“

Dean smiled to himself. It's not like he had sex with all of his friends. But that conversation might just be due another day.

He kind of wanted to cuddle, but he wasn't ready to accept that yet. So he just lay there, happy to know the angel was right beside him, and once again he drifted off into a very pleasant and restful sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The door flew open and Sam Winchester burged in, gun in hand.

Upon seeing a man in a trenchcoat simply sitting next to Dean, who seemed to be asleep, neatly tucked into bed, confusion overtook Sam's face.

The man on the bed looked up at him, a smile crossing his lips.

„Sam.“

„Who are you? How do you know my name?“ Sam asked, gun still pointing at the stranger in the trenchcoat.

„I'm Castiel, an angel of the lord. And... well, I've been watching over you two for quite a while.“

Sam stared at him. „Castiel... an angel.“ It took him a moment to accept this new information. Cas patiently smiled at him.

„Castiel... as in Cas?“ he asked. With a chuckle, Cas replied, „Yes... I believe no other than Dean has ever called me that.“

„He used to say your name in his sleep.“

Cas looked down at Dean.

Now noticing that he was still pointing his gun at the angel across the room, Sam quickly, almost abit embarrassed for his mistrust, took it down.

„Uh... I- Sorry. Why are you here? Is Dean okay? He called me and then his phone was off and I thought something had happened.“

Cas looked back up at Sam. „He had, what you humans, I believe, call a, ah, panic attack. He said something about you being in danger. His nightmares are back?“

Sam nodded, now coming closer and sitting on the other bed, across from Cas.

„Yeah... He doesn't seem to be having any now though.“

They both looked down at Dean, who was calmly sleeping, a more content and relaxed look on his face than there had been in a long time.

„Yes. I think I was able to make him feel a little better.“

Castiel was still looking down at Dean, with an almost loving look on his face, when Sam looked up at him, wondering what Cas had meant by that.

He let it go and thanked Cas for being there for Dean.

He wasn't one to question god's ways.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually at times a bit hard to write, because I somehow wanted to get a bit of dom!Cas (not really dom, just a bit controlling etc) in there, but at the same time it was Cas' first time and I somehow struggled a bit to find a balance between this kind of new, rather unknown thing, yet somehow having him really take care of Dean and making him feel like noone ever has before, ya know?
> 
> But I think it turned out alright, and now I'll move on to other things, when the time is ready, and inspiration strikes me again haha.
> 
> Well, this was much more plot, thinking and slow burning than any other fanfic I've ever written.  
> (Well there's two kinds of looks, but that one really is veeeery smutty haha.)
> 
> But I hope you enjoyed this one anyway. Let me know about mistakes, give me feedback and say hi :D  
> Lots of love.


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